Odd Couple
by Emilinia-sama
Summary: If Varric hadn't been there himself, hadn't seen the two together, he'd very likely have laughed at the mere implication that the grumpy, broody, melodramatic porcupine disguised as an elf and Hawke would've had anything to do with one another. As it was, it was the worst story he'd ever seen. Varric's POV; Snarky!M!HawkexFenris pairing (don't like, don't read)
1. Grumpy Elves Can't Pay for Decent Help

disclaimer: I AM WRITING FANFICTION! WHAT THE F*** DO YOU THINK I OWN?!

enjoy! ^-^

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Odd Couple

Part 1: Bait and Switch Part 1(Or Grumpy Elves Can't Pay for Decent "Help")

Why was it that freshly-surfaced Orzammar dwarves were terrible liars? The Carta could steal the gold fillings from your grandmother's teeth with a wink and a smile (and liberal applications of force, yes), and half The Merchant's Guild were from the Blighted city! And yet you take a dwarf out from underground, and all of a sudden, they lose their damn senses. Boggled the mind, it did. "Lyrium smuggled for the Templars," he says; phuh! A five year old wouldn't fall for that, the way he was talking.

I thank Andraste that my partner in crime—I mean, _business_ was not a five year old. But he had that look in his weird silver-gold eyes; yes, _that_ look. Two parts benign curiosity, one part suspicious cunning, and a whole lot of childish, manic _glee_.

Glee at what?

Hell if I know. I'm not Hawke.

But I _do_ know where that look tends to lead: Trouble. With a capitol 'T.'

Of _course_, Hawke tells Mr. Horrible Liar that we'll help him… You know, there are days I wonder at his sanity. I truly do. And I haven't even known Hawke for more than a couple of weeks.

I have to run to catch up to him, but I think it needs to be said that this is a really _stupid_ idea.

…Whatever it is.

"You do realize that dwarf was lying, right? Really poorly? As in, your _dog_ has a better gambling face?"

Hawke laughs, "You haven't played Diamond Back with my dog. You'll lose your lunch. As for the dwarf, I think you'd have to be blind, deaf, and loose in the head to not realize he was a shitty liar."

"Then we're going into this completely obvious trap, why?"

"Well, they just left it all open, and ready to play with, you know? Like a present! It'd be rude to not mess up whatever stupid ambush these guys have set up for us."

I almost laugh. The man has a damn _strange_ sense of humor that, oddly enough, works for him. Possibly because he just didn't care whether someone else laughed at his awful jokes or not; all that mattered was that _he_ did.

What also mattered were the thirty-or so guys in armor waiting in the Alienage for us. All of them were armed to the teeth.

And (of course) they all jumped to attack as soon as we turned the corner. Yippee.

I will admit, I've never in my life had to keep my Bianca as well armed as whenever I go out with Hawke. Bandits, thugs, gangs, Carta, smugglers, mercs, savage art students; you name it, I have now probably fought it because of this man. I swear he must use some special cologne or something that attracts the wrongdoers of Kirkwall, like cheese to rats.

Good thing Hawke can fight.

Because the armor's are falling quickly under his blade. Or well, bladed staff. Lance?

His brother's making a dent too, honestly. The muscle to Hawke's speed, Junior is. Both brothers are in the thick of the fight while me and Blondie stay back here with spells and bolts. I prefer not being skewered, thank you. But between the Hawke brothers, there's little for us to shoot. So I throw smoke bombs after a few pointless shots, and watch Hawke as he sets several guys on fire, bludgeons one with one end of his staff, skewer another on the other end, and electrocute three more guys coming at him.

Damn show off.

Still, it takes about fifteen minutes, give or take, and we're in the house, staring inside an empty wooden chest.

Worth every second. Really.

Hawke crouches over the box and runs his hands over it. "I think we're missing something…"

"Jeeze, Mel, what was your first clue?" Junior's rather aggravated, it seems.

Hawke looks up at me. His dark frizzy hair is a bit of a mess, and he's got a good deal of stubble, I notice. "There wasn't anything else in the house?"

"Nope. Not even a mouse," Blondie answers for me. "Shame that, I might have been able to get another cat…"

Hawke hums, still looking at the chest, before standing back up, nearly hitting the ceiling for his trouble. Poor man's far too tall for an elf's apartment. He slouches down a bit and heads for the door. "Well," he called back, "Let's see if our lovely benefactors can explain what this is all about, huh?"

Yet, wouldn't you know it, there were another thirty-or so guys waiting for us. Again.

I think we've seen this song and dance, right?

Long story short, we won, and the guy in charge starts ranting at us (and with such clichés! Ugh, can't the bad guys come up with at least somewhat _creative_ dialogue?) before shouting for his Lieutenant.

Enter said Lieutenant.

Or…stagger. While spurting blood.

Well, huh. Did we do that?

"Your men are dead, and your trap has failed," comes a stranger's voice from the shadows. It's a deep voice, dark, rough, with an odd combination of anger and resigned tiredness mixed in. The shadows give way to an elf, slouched over in dark, really weird looking armor (are those metal _feathers_?) and really bright white hair, and a very _brooding_ visage. He half scrambles-half stalks down the stairs to where "Captain" stands slack jawed. "I suggest you return to your master and tell him you _failed_."

Captain flinched at that, and grabbed his sword. "You slave…!"

I blink, and I think I missed something, because all of a sudden, the elf's _glowing_, and shoved a clawed hand into Captain's chest, and was that a heart in his hand?

_Squish._

Well, it might have been…

"I am not a slave."

The hand pulls back, Captain drops, and the elf turns and faces us, his eyes a solid black, and his claws covered in blood.

Should I start praying…?

"Neat trick!"

Both the elf and I jump as Hawke steps up, stupid grin in place, and proceeds to lean on his staff, pushing his messy, swoopy bangs out of his face. "What's your name, Ser?"

It takes a minute, I think, for the elf to mentally process the overly-tall human. I don't envy the man; I was still trying to work out enigma of Mellan Hawke, myself, and I pride myself on being able to read people. Finally, the elf growls out, "Fenris."

Hawke grins. "Cool name. Way better than mine. I keep getting mistaken for fruit!" he laughs, and with a flourishing bow says, "Mellan Hawke, at your humble service."

The elf blinks, completely dumbfounded, and Hawke continues, "So I take it these men were after you Serah Fenris?"

"Just Fenris," the elf snaps. "And yes, they were Imperial bounty hunters looking to reclaim a magister's lost…property."

"Meaning you?" I look over at Hawke. That wasn't a tone I could place; I hadn't heard him use it before.

If I didn't know better, I'd say it was barely restrained anger.

Just-Fenris nods. "I must confront him."

Wait a second!

"Hold on, you want to go toe to toe with a Magister? As in a _Tevinter Magister_, are you insane?" Maker bless your tactless hide, Junior. You took the words right out of my mouth.

Oh hey, the glowing's back. Great.

"Been on the run awhile, I take it?"

Attention was given back to the elder Hawke. "You could say that," Fenris replies after taking a visible breath.

"He a fan of parlor tricks, then?" Again with the grin, Hawke! Do you enjoy playing with fire?

Oh wait mage. Right.

The elf grimaces, "More likely he's tired of me slipping my leash. This is the third set of hunters in the last two days."

I whistle at that; I can't help it.

Neither can Hawke, it seems.

Fenris continued, "And before that, he kept me on a leash. A personal _pet_ to mock Qunari custom."

"Ouch," Blondie winced. The elf crouched down lower, shoulders tensing further (an amazing feat, let me tell you) and growls out, "So yes, I intend to confront him, and it will not be to _talk_."

Hawke studies the elf (and I really need to think of a better name for him than that), still leaning against his staff. Finally, he says, "Sounds like you might be needing some help, Fenris." The incredibly rare seriousness fades quickly, and once more that smirk's in place as he adds, "And I don't mean to brag, but we're a sight better help than surface-addled dwarves."

Dark as it is, I swear I see the tips of the elf's ears turn red.

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this was a fun little idea that has decided to run the full length of the game. there will be a primary focus on hawke's and fen's relationship, but there will NOT be anything explicit (varric would never be privy to that, i don't care what the game says). at least not from varric's POV. i may consent to doing a hawke's POV lemon, but not varric's. and while those two are the primary focus, the others will be present too.

and obviously, the dialogue between characters will not be word-for-word from the game, though there will likely be quotes taken from it.

anywho, please review!


	2. Elf's Got Issues

Disclaimer: well, I checked with my therapist, and it turns out that my owning the rights to dragon age was all a dream. I really am just another broke fanfiction writer on the internet.

A/N: so, Varric was feeling vociferous this chapter, and made me bump the rating up to T. It SHOULDN'T go higher than that...but I promise nothing.

Enjoy!

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Odd Couple

Part 2: Bait and Switch Part 2 (Or Elf's got Issues)

It was weird being in Hightown at Oh Dark Thirty in the morning. Well, maybe _weird_ was the wrong word. _Really_ _Stupid_ probably fit the bill better, honestly. Pickpockets were small-time at night, after all. Yet here we were, outside a dark mansion, covered in blood from both the bounty hunters in the alienage, and from a fresh group of thugs in the Courtyard outside the Viscount's Keep. Where do these jokers keep coming from? And how do they not break their ankles jumping from rooftops like they do?

Though, it looks like they kept the elf entertained while we were coming here. Though, looking at the bodies laid around Fernis' feet, I can't help but once more wonder what the hell we were doing there.

The elf turns around, trying to act natural, I think, but just looks tired, poor kid. If he's been hunted as mercilessly as he's implied, I can't help but sympathize. Even so, he straightens, and starts in on how we need to be "cautious" going after this magister-guy.

Like that wasn't _obvious_, Elf.

And of course, ten minutes later, the kid runs off yelling the top of his lungs for "Danarius" (humans have the weirdest names) to come out and face him.

You know that sympathy I mentioned earlier? Forget I said anything.

Honestly, when you've got even _Hawke_ looking at you like you're an idiot, you probably ought to rethink your life. Just saying.

Anyway, me, Hawke, and Junior look at the elf's retreating figure, look at each other, and then run off after him, telling him to wait up. So much for being cautious. Though we do eventually catch back up with the elf, and I get my first real look at demons.

They were…gross, really; kinda like how I always imagine ghouls looked like. Smoke and shadow, cutting steel and oozing slime. And they were swarming all over the elf, despite the kid's attempts to keep them back, still yelling his bloody head off for Danarius to face him.

"Do you honestly think your pets can protect you from me, Danarius?"

"Hey, Fenris, just a thought, but less talking, more demon-killing," Hawke finally yells over the fray. He and Junior jump into the fray themselves, hacking and slashing at the demons' backs. I personally start aiming for eyes. At least I think the glowing purple targets are eyes. Well, they reel in pain whenever I hit them, so it's all good.

But they're not dying. Which is not good.

"This is taking too long, Mel!" Junior's voice certainly does carry doesn't it?

"Working on it, Carver! Hang on!" Maybe the no-inside voice is a Hawke thing.

All of a sudden, Bianca starts glowing bright yellow, and I'm shooting lightening outta my lady.

"Neat!"

Fenris did not share my sentiment, "What in the entire Void…!"

But apparently Hawke's not having it now. "Killing demons first, yelling at me second! Just swing that damn meat cleaver already!"

With Hawke's magic backing up our shots, the demons go down far easier till they're just stains on the floor. Yay!

And the elf was glowing, and glaring with obsidian-dark eyes. _Again_. Yay…

_Elf needs to learn some new tricks…_

But Hawke was serious as I've ever seen him, and met the elf's glare steadily. "I'm on your side, Fenris," he said.

"You're a—!"

"Who is _helping_ you. Or do you want to face this magister on your own?" Junior walks over to stand just behind Hawke's shoulder, telling the elf without words whose side he was on. You know, for all he complains, Junior really is a loyal little brother isn't he? As for me, I keep Bianca cocked and ready; nothing against Fenris, but I need Hawke alive. I want me and my brother's expedition to succeed, really badly; we need the money just as much as Hawke and Junior do. Plus, I've only known Hawke for a couple of weeks, but what I've seen and talked to so far I really like, concerns for his mental state aside. Elf just doesn't have as much of a report.

Them's the break though. And Fenris, I think, knew that too, if the blinding light he was exuding was any indication.

Kid should never play Diamond Back, with anger issues like that.

"Blinding us won't do anything, Elf. And we're wasting time, just so you know," I piped up.

And just like that, I was blinking the spots out of my eyes, the elf going out like…well, like a light. Still, good to know practicality snuffed him out pretty quick. Though he was still glaring at us—at Hawke.

Hey, I'll take it. For now.

_Keep that up though, Elf, and Bianca'll have words with you…_

Anyway, we continue on through the mansion, kicking liberal demon ass along the way (because we're awesome) when we hit a snag. Well, _another_ one.

I glare at the door. Stupid thing refused to do what I wanted, when I wanted it to do it. My _survival_ is depending on this door opening (I can seriously _feel_ Fenris' glare), and it _wouldn't budge_. I turn back to the others, "It needs a key."

Hawke sighs, "Well, shit…maybe one of the demons had it?"

So we had to go through the entire house looking for the _one_ stupid Rage Demon—out of, what, twelve?—that had the stupid little key, that opened the stupid little door, that—sing it with me now, summoned _another fucking demon_.

You know, at four o' clock in the morning after having stayed up the entire night, this routine was getting _old_. But we were tired, we were cranky, and we were s_low_.

And the demon took advantage of that. Well, it and another ten-or so Shades.

Because no kill like overkill, right?

It sealed Hawke in a crushing prison first—and damn, if the blighted thing wasn't smart, taking Hawke out first—before coming for the rest of us. Elf tried to rush the thing headlong, and got his sword frozen to the ground for his trouble, while the Shades blocked me off from the others into a corner.

Okay, seriously, why do I keep getting shoved into corners?!

_And why did I hear Junior screaming?!_

Well, three bolts and a flash grenade later, I found out why.

Junior laid there on the floor, a giant hole in his stomach from where (I assume) the demon had impaled him with those super-long talons. The elf was still pinned, and trying to bat off a group of Shades with his single not-frozen claw, as the demon made its way over to a struggling, silently-screaming Hawke.

The sight of the scene was so…incongruously horrifying, I'm not sure I can describe it well, but here goes:

The demon floated lazily, assuredly over to where Hawke struggled against invisible bonds, like a rat in a trap. It lifted one clawed hand, and began to run its fingers through Hawke's short, frizzy hair. The gesture itself was rather…puzzling, in hindsight. It was almost loving, a caress. And I think the thing was whispering to Hawke, but I couldn't be sure, really.

But I could guess, given the look of _abject terror_ written over Hawke's face, that it was something _bad_.

And the terror is what got to me, more than anything.

Demon impaling Junior through the gut, and leaving him to die? Still rationale. Demon whispering _something_ to Mellan Hawke, and leaving him wide-eyed in terror?

You're _dead_.

Still, there were demon's trying to whack me over the head from behind, so I fired a few bolts towards Hawke's antagonist, before fishing the dagger I kept in my boot out and stabbing the things behind me in the throat.

Then I heard an enraged yell, followed by streams of lightening striking the demons from nowhere.

I whirled around, to see Hawke shooting massive sparks from his hands at the demon that had, a second ago, been holding him captive. He had his staff back in his hands, and was slashing, and stabbing, and feinting wildly. And it seemed it was all the demon could do to steer clear of Hawke's attacks.

Apparently, whatever that demon had said had majorly pissed him off.

Good to see. The relief at the sight nearly left me stunned, but I didn't have time for that.

I had faith Hawke could handle himself while I sorted out Elf. I couldn't look to Junior right now.

Me and the elf needed to have _words_, first.

"Now you listen to me Elf, and you listen good," I tell him, the edge of my knife against his throat—what can I say, I was feeling reckless, "_Back Hawke up_. We are here helping _you_. You let him die, and I kill you myself. So you wanna make it out alive? Then make sure _he _gets out alive. Where you go and what you do after is your business. We clear?"

Fenris glared a rather sullen glare. Then nodded.

_Good enough._

With the butt of my knife, I break the ice holding Fenris down, and jump back as the elf jumps up and runs down the banister towards where Hawke was having it out with the demon. I kept an eye on them a second longer, just to make sure Fenris didn't do anything he—and I—would regret.

The elf, however, made good on his—well, not _word_, really, but the sentiment's the same, right? He gave one large _burst_ of light, and the demon stumbled back, like some force had just collided with it. From there, despite not being as coordinated to Hawke as Junior was—_is, Varric, is!_—Hawke was obviously used to giant Claymores flying overhead, and moved with Fenris in a slightly clumsier version of his and Junior's dance. When Hawke stabbed low, Fenris aimed high; when Fenris swept low, Hawke blinded the demon with lightening.

It wasn't anywhere near as graceful or practiced as Hawke and Junior, as I've said.

But _damn_ if it wasn't still impressive.

_Speaking of Junior._

I turned back to him, and I gotta admit, it was really unnerving that anyone could turn that shade of white in a matter of minutes. I wrapped bandages first, possibly tight enough to cut off blood flow, but I was working against time here. Then I tried to get the kid to swallow some potion, both a little for health and for stamina, trying to get some liquids down him. Junior being Junior wasn't really making this easy for me, either.

But by then, I didn't hear any more fighting (I might've heard Hawke say a quiet thanks to the elf, but I wasn't looking), so called down, "Get your ass up here, Hawke, before Junior bleeds out!"

Did I mention it had been a long night?

Still, I've never heard anyone sprint like Hawke did just then. In an instant, Hawke was next to me, glowing with a soft blue magic I'd never seen him use before. But being near him while he was glowing was kinda the exact opposite of the elf's glowing.

It was…really nice.

That feeling, however, was tempered greatly by Hawke's expression. And his running monologue:

"No. No, no, no, _no_! You are _not_ dying! Not after—no! You _listen_ to me, _Carver Jonathon Hawke_, you are _not_ dying; I will not _let_ you die! Not now, not ever! So _wake the fuck up_!"

A couple things had happened by this point: first off, Fenris had walked up behind Hawke (dragging his feet, really), and was looking at Hawke with an incredibly…_neutral_ expression. Secondly, the light Hawke was emanating had turned white, like a tame imitation of the elf's light show from earlier.

And finally, _Carver woke up_.

Hawke gave a choked little gasp before pulling his baby brother into an embrace hard enough to hurt, given Junior's wince. Though that might have been my field dressing. Anyway.

"You ever do anything like that again—"

"Not like I _asked_ the demon to stab me in the gut, Mel."

"That's not the point, you idiot!"

"You're not _making_ a point, you idiot!"

Ah, brotherly love.

Still, we had come here to do something right? And the elf was looking twitchy. And I was _really tired_ by this point, so I cleared my throat and got the brothers Hawke moving.

And wouldn't you know it? The magister-guy got away. If he was even really here in the first place, which I kinda doubted by this point.

Still, the dejected slope of the elf's shoulders belayed his disappointment. He sighed, "Gone. I had thought…" he shook his head, like it would dispel the angst hanging over him like a cloud (it didn't, by the way). He turned and after giving his blessing to raid the place (like there was anything _to_ raid, Elf) left the room to go back outside.

After breaking open a couple of chests (of which the best things in them were a pair of _boots_. Cause we didn't have nearly enough of _those_), we followed Fenris to find him leaning against a column, exuding such melodramatic _angst_ it was practically visible. Seriously, I was amazed there weren't women squeezing out of the walls to beg him for kids. Or something.

…Okay, I state again, five in the morning, long night, no sleep. I'm not really feeling all that eloquent right now.

But the elf did start soliloquizing. Broodily.

"It never ends," he sighed, "I escaped a land of dark magic only to have it hunt me at every turn." _Maker's ass, really?_ Fenris turned to us and continued, "And now I find myself in the company of yet _another_ mage." _We get it, you have issues! Andraste's dimpled ass cheeks, make it stop!_ "So tell me, what _manner_ of mage are you?" This last part was asked far too neutrally for my liking, despite the growl there in the middle.

I think Junior heard what I did, cause he immediately leaned forward, fingers curling into fists and told the elf in no uncertain terms, "You have a problem with my brother, you have a problem with _me_." Fenris, however, did not look particularly impressed, and turned his attention once more to the elder brother.

Apparently, Hawke was not really in the mood for this line of questioning. He immediately tipped his head to the side and sneered, "Why the manner that slits his writs and dances naked in the moonlight. And I gotta tell ya, I look _damn_ good naked." The elf turned red at this, though whether it was due to embarrassment or anger, I couldn't quite tell. Hawke narrowed his eyes and widened his smile—a dangerous sign most times, "Is there a point to this line of interrogation?"

Fenris scowled silently for a time before stating quietly, "There is no such thing as a harmless mage in my experience. Even the weakest in power have the potential for harm, whether they acknowledge it or not. Whether they _wish_ it or not. So I ask again, what manner of mage are you?"

Hawke was quiet for a time, considering, I think, what the elf said and asked. Eventually he sighed, "You…certainly don't ask easy questions, do you?" He rubbed his forehead in thought (and possibly to ease an oncoming headache; Maker knows I've got one), and said, "I doubt it'll put your mind at ease or anything, but I don't really want anything. Or well, the things I do want aren't worth selling my soul over, you know? Or turning to blood magic for. I'm an apostate, not a maleficar. And no, I have intention of becoming maleficarum anytime soon. I'd prefer to rely on my own strength first."

"And if that should not work?"

"Then I try again. You'll find I'm nothing if not stubborn," Hawke grinned. "And I'll achieve my dreams through my own power, thank you very much. And since I have now answered your question to the best of my ability, mind if I ask you why your old master wants you so much? Seems like a lot of effort to recapture _one_ slave."

"He doesn't want me at all," Fenris snapped, "just the markings on my skin." He brought one arm up where it shimmered in the faint dawn-light, and glowered at it, like it offended him. Seemed as though a lot of things did. "They are lyrium," he told us, "burned into my flesh to provide the power Danarius required of his _pet_."

"And you're not dead?!"

Oops, did I say that?

Yet, the elf just looked up in an expression that, for all it was still broody, was _wry_. "Apparently."

"Damn…" Seriously, _damn_. That sympathy from earlier was flaring back up again.

"And you think Danarius will keep hunting you?"

"He is too proud not to. I doubt he will stop until either I am back with him, or until I am dead, the lyrium stripped from my corpse."

Hawke gawped, "What a waste of a perfectly handsome elf!"

And then the weirdest thing I'd seen so far that night happened: Fenris laughed. Okay not so much "Ha ha ha" as a cross between a cough and a guffaw, but still! It stunned me so bad, I nearly missed Hawke's reaction.

He was blushing.

Well, huh.

_I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with Bad Romance Novel._

Maker, I wasn't drunk enough for this.

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Thanks for reading! Reviews make for faster updates!


	3. Avoiding Bartrand

Disclaimer: To sue or not to sue, that is the question. Whether it is nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous lawsuits, or take up understanding that fanfiction is merely that, and by so accepting, end them. (I don't own Shakespeare anymore than I own Dragon Age)

Enjoy!

Odd Couple

Part 3: The Long Way Home Part 1 (Or Avoiding Bartrand)

I hadn't gotten enough sleep from that whole escapade with the Grumpy Elf to deal with bullshit.

Especially not Bartrand's.

"Where the hell are we gonna get the coin for this, Varric? Between the Sharek's breathing down our neck about debt, and that whole Blight-scare in Fereldan, no one but the Warden's would be willing spend a whole lot of money for someone else to go down there! Not to mention—"

Such was my life. _Ugh_.

"I already told you I was working on it, Bartrand. Where's your faith in my ability to charm?" Oh, Maker my head hurts…

"If you were getting results, I'd have a whole lot more faith! But do I see anyone lining up at the door with coin in hand? No!"

Ah, ever the mature older brother… "These things can't be rushed, brother dearest. You know that as well as I do. Give me another week or two, and we'll have everything we need to go through the Roads."

Bartrand grumbled, but couldn't really say anything that hadn't already been said (at volume) before. Damn, but I was going to be so relieved when this whole affair was over. Between Bartrand and my publisher, I was going to be living out of a bottle for the rest of my life. I practically already was, but that's beside the point.

"Uhm." I looked up to find Hawke dawdling uncertainly in the doorway like a kid. A really, really tall kid. "Is this a bad time?"

I absolutely love this guy's timing, truly I do. "Not at all Hawke! Bartrand was just leaving."

"You sure? We can come back…" We? Oh, I hadn't noticed Aveline at Hawke's shoulder. And there was the broody elf, eyeing everything like he was expecting something big and nasty to jump out and bite him. Hawke had even brought his hound with him today. And Isabela, snoop that she is, was leaning in the doorway, drink in hand, eyes on Fenris' ass, and a smirk firmly in place.

"No, no! Stay, sit, have a drink. Allow me to entertain all of you a spell. It's not often I get such a variety of guests," I chuckle. I eye Bartrand and smirk as he marches out the door in a huff. Highlight of my day, right there. Hawke sits down beside me on one side, Aveline on the other. Fenris didn't seem to trust the chairs, I guess, and opts to stand behind Hawke along with his wardog, while Isabela slinks fully into the room, and onto the table itself. Eh, whatever. "Now, what can I do for you Hawke?"

Hawke smirks, "I was hoping I could pick your brain."

"Sounds unpleasant."

"I promise not to use a fork."

I laugh. Oh, but I like this guy! "Alright then, shoot."

"Aveline, here, heard a rumor about some caravan or other that's about to be hit by smugglers, or bandits, or something. And I know how well you make friends," _subtle, _Hawke, "Maybe you've heard about it?"

I hum, my eyes going to the ceiling, and my fingers steepling together in thought as I rack my brain for this one. "Nothing like _that_ I've heard of…" I tell the slowly, "But I have noticed a whole lot of information moving through questionable channels. Some of them mine, yes, stop looking at me like that, Aveline."

"What sort of information, Varric? Lives could be at stake," Aveline demands, leaning over the table towards me. I oddly reminded me of how I always pictured Donnen doing that, whilst he would interrogate prisoners…anyways.

"The kind I can _use_, m'lady. Usually has to do with guard rotations and such. You know, stuff that otherwise gets in the way of my, _ahem_, work. Speaking of which, Elf," Fenris looks over at me in surprise; I guess he didn't expect me to address him, "that thing you do with your hand—"

His eyes narrowed warily. "I can already tell this isn't going anywhere pleasant," he mumbles (mostly to himself, I think).

I smirk, "I bet that makes pickpocketing easier."

That makes the elf blink. "I'll try it sometime and find out." Wow, kid has a sense of humor after all; who'd a-thunk it?

"Fernis' oh-so-bright future as a pickpocket aside," Hawke interjects, "If someone's moving that kinda info around, we need to stop them. Stuff like that could get the city razed in an instant, in the wrong hands."

"Couldn't have put it better myself, Hawke," Aveline smiles at him, like the big sister she is.

"Why would _you_ have to do anything?" Fenris frowns.

"Well, no one else is volunteering, are they?" Hawke grinned over his shoulder. "Besides, I like to think of it as doing a favor for a friend. Right, Aveline?"

"I'm not going to stop spying one you, Hawke."

"Damn," Hawke pouts. Isabela laughs, while Fenris looks between the two of them in confusion.

"You…_allow_ her to spy on you?" My, my, was that incredulity coloring the elf's tone? So he does have emotion other than blind rage and neutrality.

Hawke snorted, "Even if I didn't she'd do it anyway."

"Aw," Rivaini piped up in feigned hurt, "But you don't take the time to spy on me?"

"I don't have to, whore. You're always right where I expect you to be."

"Ouch," I wink to Isabela, "I think she's challenging you, Rivaini."

"Ha! Lady Man-Hands' just jealous that I'm getting laid. _Regularly_."

"Oh yes," Aveline droned, "I'm so jealous of how you have to go see Anders almost _daily_ just to get rid of everything you picked up the night before. However will I cope? Look, I'm already turning green with envy."

It's honestly fun watching Rivaini and Aveline go back and forth. Hawke, in fact, leaned over the table like a really big kid (again) yelling, "Cat fight! Cat fight!" while Fenris was making this really…_pinched_ expression. Like he wanted to laugh, but was trying really hard not to.

I, on the other hand, have no such problems. "If that's what's happening, I should sell tickets. But there's a time and a place, right ladies?"

Well, my maturity gets me ribbed, but also serves to get Hawke and Aveline up and out the door. And of course, I tag along. And yes I was avoiding Bartrand; sue me. Fenris comes along too, why I'm not sure, but I guess it had something to do with that debt he seemed to think he owed Hawke. The Rivaini seemed to get some message or other (probably about that box of hers), and skedaddled on out the other way.

We were near the South Gate when Aveline pipes up to Hawke, "Did you ever get that amulet to the Dalish like the witch asked you to do?" which makes him freeze up—and I swear I feel the air crackle with static, suddenly—yell, "Shit!" and turn tail back for Lowtown.

It's amazing how fast that kid can run…must be those long, spindly legs humans seem to have. And Hawke's got the longest I've ever seen.

Fenris watched after Hawke muttering acidly, "He made a deal with a witch?"

"We didn't have much choice at the time," Aveline sighed, "It was either accept her deal and help, or be left to the tender mercies of the Blight. And after…" she trailed off abruptly, a deep sadness pervading her expression that had my author's senses tingling, before continuing stoically, "Well, we didn't have the resources to refuse the Witch's help."

The elf cocked his head to the side, but didn't seem to take any more issue with that, and good thing too, since Hawke was back by then. From there, it was decided that we should head for Sundermount to find this clan of Dalish, and pay this debt Hawke owed, before intercepting Aveline's caravan.

Which meant hiking.

Joy.

You know, with friends like Hawke, who needs enemies?

"Come any closer shem, and you'll meet our blades."

Confused? Join the club. Best I can recall, we were just walking along, heading towards Sundermount when a group of hostile wild-elves surrounded us with arrows pointed at our vitals, and a line of swords and shields (I need to remember that; potential for a story title there…) standing at the ready before us.

What bass ackwards fortune smiled upon us that we got to meet all the _fun_ elves?

"Why, they make you seem downright amiable," I told Fenris. Seriously, at least he started threatening us _after_ the introductions had been made. He rolled his eyes, and Hawke doubled over laughing—I don't think it had been that funny, but whatever. Poor Aveline was left completely without context, and just couldn't find the humor in our situation.

Neither did the Dalish it seemed. Bunch of sticks in the mud.

Hawke straightened, still chuckling a little, and gave them that mega-watt grin he was so (in)famous for. "I have an appointment with Keeper Marethari. Got sent by a Dragon-Lady in Fereldan, and she should be expecting me."

That made the elves blink and step back. "You are the one sent by Asha'Bellenar?" a girl asked.

"Sure, I guess. At least I think she said she was called that sometimes…"

"We thought you would be an elf," some male Dalish said, cutting Hawke off. Certainly don't beat around the bush do they, these elves?

"Afraid not, serah," Hawke beamed, a hint of steel in his smile. "So can we go now, or what?"

The Dalish glanced at each other for a moment before giving their _incredibly gracious_ blessing. And yes, there was as much sarcasm in that phrase as you think there was.

"I hope they're not all like that," I muttered.

"Then you hope in vain," Fenris told me flat out. The stares we were getting from the occupants of the tribe lent credibility to the elf's statement. "The Dalish are just as bigoted as many humans are, and often far more hostile, even to their own kind."

"Well, geeze, that coming from you…" But Hawke shushed us as we came up to what must have been the Keeper. She reminded me of a willow tree, honestly. There was an ageless quality to her, yet you could tell just from looking at her that she had seen a lot of life. Also she was skinny as hell, but I think that's an elf thing. And hey, at least she was friendlier than most other elves I've met—_cough, _Fenris, Dalish, _cough_. Hawke showed her the amulet this "Dragon-Lady" had given him, and after examining it for a moment told him he had to go up Sundermount.

"Hawke, you know there's a reason I live in a _city_, right?"

What was done was done, though, and we were headed up the path when the Keeper hailed Hawke once more.

"Further up that path, you will find my First, Merrill. She will be your guide, and perform the ritual to pay your debt to Asha'Bellenar in full."

"Sounds good, thanks," Hawke grinned, turning to go. Someone was rearing to go…

"When you leave," The Keeper continued, "I must ask that you take Merrill with you."

That stopped Hawke (and the rest of us) cold. "Correct me if I'm wrong," he said slowly, like he couldn't comprehend what he was hearing, "isn't the your First essentially your apprentice?"

"She is."

"And you're getting rid of her?"

"No."

Hawke frowned, "But you just said—"

"If I had my way, Merrill would stay and know peace amongst family," Marethari closed her eyes and looked away, her face pinching in pain, "But many things have happened against my wishes lately. The decision to leave was one Merrill made herself. She is of age, and I cannot stop her from walking this path. If it's what she wants, I will allow it." You could tell it broke her heart to do it, though.

No one said anything for a time. Finally, Hawke walked back over to Marethari and squeezed her shoulders, in a gesture that had all the other Dalish up in arms. Neither of them seemed to notice that, though. "I'm not promising anything," Hawke told Marethari quietly. I had to strain to hear him. "I might be able to convince your Merrill to stay. Cause take it from a fellow Fereldan," he grinned, "Kirkwall is not an easy place to live. But if she still wants to leave your clan when we get back, then I promise I'll look after her."

Marethari's eyes were about the size of dinner plates by this point; I honestly didn't know if they could get any bigger. After staring at Hawke for a long minute, she touched the back of his wrist gently and nodded her apparent relief. He squeezed her shoulders one more time before straightening and turning back to us. "Come on then gents—and Aveline. We've miles to go before we sleep!"

I groaned. "Why do you have to say miles, Hawke?"

Bastard had the nerve to laugh, "Just to spite you Varric."

"Just for that, you're paying for your own drinks."

There wasn't a whole lot of talking after that; damn road was _steep_. Though, at least I wasn't wearing heavy armor like Aveline, or hauling around a huge flipping broadsword like Elf. Really, I will never in all my life understand warriors; they haul all that weight around _willingly_. Boggled the mind.

Back to the adventure on hand, though, we were…only a quarter up the mountain when we met Merrill. And I gotta say, I don't have a thing for elves, but Merrill's cute. Bright, shiny, and bouncy, with short dark hair pulled up in a multitude of braids that swung hither and thither as she turned this way and that and large light green eyes. If Marethari was a willow tree, then Merrill was definitely a daisy. Also had the tendency of tripping over herself, as she was doing while introducing herself to Hawke.

He seemed to take it all in stride, though I think she bemused him a bit. He gestured round to all of us, making introductions along the way. "I look forward to working with you, miss," he said at the end, shaking her hand. She seemed surprised, but beamed quite readily at Hawke's friendliness.

Then we got to hike some more. Yay.

And all along the way, Merrill kept up a running dialogue with us. If I wasn't so ready to sit down, I might've laughed. Girl had better stamina than all of us combined.

She did make the mistake, however, of trying to talk to Fenris:

"You're a city elf, right? I didn't know the city elves had vallaslin!"

"What?" Fenris growled.

"Your markings, they _are_ vallaslin, right?" Gotta give Daisy points for persistence.

"I have no idea what that is."

"It means Blood Writing. That's what they're made of. Blood—our blood. It's a mark of adulthood."

"My markings were a brand forced upon me, not a rite of passage," he bit out. With that, Elf rounded on Daisy and gave her a full, unrestrained, frost-bitten _glare_, "Now leave. Me. Alone."

Daisy shrank back, and I couldn't blame her. Maker, that glare hadn't been aimed anywhere near me, and I felt my balls retract. "Now, now Elf," I said in a vain attempt to keep Merrill from crying, "Daisy was only curious. No need to go biting her head off."

Merrill blinked. "Who's Daisy?"

"Why, you're Daisy, Daisy."

She lit right back up when I told her that, and I felt the odd urge to pat her on the head and give her a cookie. There's something to be said for people who take joy in simple pleasures…

"Hey, now," Hawke called from up ahead, "We all playing nice back there?"

"We're good, Hawke," I called back.

"Good. I don't want to have to make Aveline go back there and separate you lot," he laughed.

"What makes you think I would deal with them?"

"Cause you're the great big armored mama-bear of the group, and I'm just a soft and squishy big brother figure. And staffs are just not as good at defense as shields are."

"What was that, Hawke? Did I just hear you say you want me to train you in swords and shields?" Goodness, Aveline's grin was rather chilling, wasn't it?

Why, it froze the grin on Hawke's face. "Moving on!"

We kept going up, both Hawke and Daisy getting sidetracked off and on about flowers, of all things, when we met up with another Dalish scout. Just one this time, but he might have been the most venomous one yet. Or at least, he was towards Merrill.

"Found someone to take you away from here at last?" he sneered. Merrill nodded, her eyes on her feet, and her cheeks flaming red either with either embarrassment, anger, or perhaps shame. Or maybe some combination of all three. The scout turned to Aveline, "Be done with your business and begone, human. We cannot be rid of _this one_ fast enough." A slender auburn brow rose at that, and Aveline and Hawke swapped a weary glance, but the scout didn't stick around long enough to see it.

Or Fenris' glower.

"The more I hear, the more I wonder what exactly it is you've done," he said aside to Merrill. His tone might have been conversational, had it not been for the dark look he shot her from the corner of his eye.

And honestly, I couldn't help but wonder the same.

"I haven't _done_ anything," Daisy whispered harshly, "What I _will_ do, I will do for the good of my clan, just as the First should. Even if my clan doesn't accept it." She turned away and continued up the mountain, leaving the rest of us in various states of troubled wariness.

I mean, what could _Merrill_ have possibly done to get ostracized like this?

"Hawke, I don't think there's any saving grace you can find here," Aveline told him quietly. "Whatever she did or didn't do, there's too much bad blood between her and her clan. Trying to convince her to stay—"

"Would probably get her killed sooner or later," Hawke sighed, "Keeper or no Keeper." He shook his head in exasperation, fingers threading through his frizzy hair. "Maker, what have I gotten myself into now?"

"If you were wise," Fenris muttered, "You would end this as soon as your debt is paid."

"Good advice, except for one little issue."

"What?"

Hawke grinned ruefully over his shoulder, "I'm not very wise."

So that was Long Way Home part 1- the story marches on.

you know, I think I'm gonna do an interlude after this...meh, we'll see. keep a look out for part 2, and for OC's companion story, The Space Between.

hugs, kisses, and reviews! see ya'll later!


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